“Right. So we’re looking at love,” Matt said.
Erin shook her head. “No. Maybe. The first time he hit me was on our honeymoon. A man in love wouldn’t do that, right?”
Matt’s heart broke all over again. “No.”
Mallory leaned forward, grabbed the laptop, and pulled it toward her. “This ex-asshole. He has money, right?”
“Yes.”
“What are we talking? Is he rubbin’ noses with Buffett or some hotshot that made it big on YouTube this week?”
Erin shook her head. “Not Buffett . . . somewhere in between.”
Mallory clicked on the computer while the rest of them talked.
“Revenge?” Parker asked.
“I don’t see it. I met him through my father. They both had stock in the same company, went to the same functions. To my dad, we were meant to be.”
“The father who wasn’t there to help you when you went to him for help,” Matt pointed out.
“My dad isn’t like yours. He’s self-serving. Much as I hate to admit it.”
“Vertex!” Mallory called out.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Yeah, that’s the company,” Erin told her.
Mallory set her chin on her fist and read. “It says here the company pulls in over 11.3 billion . . . with a B . . . in annual revenue.”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “That’s the company Desmond works for?”
Erin shook her head. “Owns. Well . . . he has majority stock. Which means he has veto power in the company.”
“So it’s public?” Jase asked.
“Right.”
“And your father has stock?” Mallory asked.
“No. He signed it over to us as a wedding present. Gave Desmond the inch he needed to control the company. My father told me I was set and would never have to worry about something as dirty as money.”
Matt felt his brain starting to itch.
“He really said that?” Austin asked.
“My father has stock in a lot of very lucrative businesses. His only real job is investing and making money.”
Jase blew out a breath. “I’d like in on that action.”
Mallory nudged him. “Not at the expense of your soul.”
“Your ex has stock? Or you both have stock?” Parker asked.
Matt felt his head bopping from one person to another like a tennis match. Only he didn’t watch that kind of sport.
“Him . . . only my attorney thinks the stock was in both our names. One of the hiccups in the divorce. I walked away. I didn’t want any of it. But Renee thinks the stock belongs to both of us. We’re still investigating that.”
“You don’t know?” Austin asked.
Matt had the same question.
“I didn’t care,” Erin said. “I went from my father taking care of me to Desmond. I went to college but never truly understood what I was going to do with my life. I got married and became a punching bag.” Erin looked at Matt for the first time in the conversation. “Then I had one life goal. Get away from the narcissistic monster before he killed me.”
Considering all the parts she’d left out of her tale for those at the table, Matt considered what she said an understatement. Erin escaped with her life and was happy for it.
“Narcissist?” Mallory asked.
Erin moved her gaze to Mallory. “Yes.”
“You mean he believes his own lies?” Mallory’s major in college was psychology.
Erin shook her head and closed her eyes. “He could run through a red light and by the time he stopped at the next, convince himself, and anyone else in the car, that the light was yellow . . . maybe orange, but he didn’t commit a moving violation.” She paused. “He’s that good.”
“You fell for that?” Austin asked.
Matt wanted to hit him . . . but the kid was barely shaving.
“I’m not proud, Austin,” Erin said.
Mallory sat back. “A narcissist looking to keep power. I don’t think we’ve gotten to that chapter yet, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“I’m pretty sure my father gave the stock to him. That’s what I was told.”
“By the narcissist who didn’t run the red light?” Mallory asked.
Erin blinked several times as if the computer in her brain finally started to reboot after an update.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“I found her.” Desmond pulled out every emotion he could as he spoke.
“Is she okay?”
“It’s gotten worse, Lawrence. She’s changed her name, her identity. And now she’s hurting other people. I don’t know what to do. I’ve lied to my lawyer in an effort to find her, and now that I have I’m afraid it’s going to backfire.”
“Where is she?”
Desmond wasn’t about to disclose that. “I have an in with the people she’s deemed her new family.”
“New family? What are you talking about?”
“A family. A new sister . . . two, actually, and a brother. She has a lover.” Desmond sobbed. “I don’t care. I don’t care. For better or for worse. I’ll take care of her. Make sure she gets the help she needs.”
“Let me help. Maybe she’ll listen to me. I am her father.”
“I have this . . . Dad. Now that I’ve located her I’ll bring her home.”
“Desmond . . . I really think we should do this together.”
His father-in-law saw it his way. “Give me a couple of days. If I can’t convince her, I’ll call you.”
“Desmond—”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Desmond!”
He clicked off the line, tossed his phone on the vanity, and straightened his tie.
The weight of the world lifted from her shoulders.
It was barely nine thirty and Erin was crawling into bed feeling like she could sleep for the next month and be just fine.
Matt emerged from the shower with one towel tied over his hips and another in his hand.
He took one look at her and stopped drying his hair. “You okay?”
“I’m exhausted.”
“That makes two of us.” He ducked back into the bathroom, lost the towel, and emerged in his boxer shorts.
Erin scooted over, leaving room for Matt to crawl in beside her. Once settled, she burrowed into the crook of his arm and latched on.
She could lie with her ear resting on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart . . . the air moving in and out of his lungs . . . for hours and never tire. Matt ran his fingertips along her arm in slow strokes. When he kissed the top of her head, Erin sighed.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For trusting me . . . us. We’re going to get you through this.”
“I . . .” don’t deserve you. She shook the negative thought away before she said it out loud. “I come with more baggage than a reality star on Paradise Hotel.”
He chuckled. “You’re worth it.”
She lifted her head to see his eyes. “Really, Matt. I should be apologizing. I brought all this on you and your family just by being here.”
“You can apologize, but I’m not going to accept it. You aren’t the problem, he is. Taking him out of the shadows and giving us a face and a name to the person who has haunted you gives you the power. If he’s in this town, we’ll find him.” He kissed her forehead and encouraged her to lie back down.
Erin sighed in the comfort of his arms. “And then what? It’s not a crime to be here.”
“We file a police report, give them Desmond’s name, location, and history. The only business he has here is to screw with you. He took it to a new level when he targeted three other women in this family. He might have gotten away with what he did to you all those years, but he won’t get away with this now.”
“Right after I left, when I was absolutely certain that everyone I came in contact with could see through my fake name and bad hair color, I would dream about him finding me. Each ti
me he dragged me away from the life I was trying to create and lock me in the house. Only recently did those dreams change.”
Matt held her tighter. “How so?”
“I pull away . . . yell and scream. I fight back. In my dreams I fight back. I never did when I was with him.” Not once. Every day she told herself she would, and every day she cowered and protected herself by lifting her arms to keep her face from taking the brunt of his attacks. When he was done she would clean herself up, put on broad-rimmed sunglasses, and avoid anyone she knew. She adopted lies about her injuries and knew when people saw through her.
“Your dreams should be a testament to who you are now. Maci was a victim. Erin is a fighter.”
Something about Matt’s statement punched right into her solar plexus. Gooseflesh rose up her spine and down her arms. Once again she lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. “You really think so?”
Matt smiled. “Don’t you? Maci took the path of least resistance. Even if it involved pain. Erin forged her own path and isn’t afraid of saying no.” He pressed a finger to her chest. “She’s pretty badass, if you ask me.”
Not once in her entire life had anyone ever referred to her as badass. “You make me feel things I never have before.”
He reached for her face and tilted his head. “I don’t hold the monopoly on that.”
Erin reached for his lips with hers and fell a little deeper into the vortex she called Matt.
“You have nothing on this phone. How is that possible?” Grace sipped on her second glass of wine while they waited for their food. Already her cheeks were flushed and her laugh came easy. The phone he’d purchased two weeks before was free of everything but what the manufacturer loaded in at the factory. Grace attacked it with both thumbs as she downloaded a dating app to help Dylan discover the love of his life.
“I find people who spend all day on these things annoying.”
Grace shrugged. “A sign of the times, I guess. Human contact is taken in small doses.”
Desmond frowned. “That’s unfortunate. I’m rather fond of human contact.”
Grace looked over the top of the phone and grinned. “If you’re going to flirt with me, is there a reason to download this?”
Women are so easy.
“You’re much too put together for someone like me.”
Her brow furrowed. “Pretty sure that’s a line.” She went back to clicking away on the phone.
“I might have a few I can dust off and use,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes, and Desmond’s jaw started to hurt as he ground his teeth together. Nothing was more disrespectful than an eye roll.
“We need a picture.” Grace lifted the phone and pointed it at him. “Smile.”
“We’re in a restaurant.” A five-star one at that.
“People take pictures of their food all the time. Smile.”
He put a hand in front of his face. “We can do that later. Outside.”
She relented. “Okay, fine. What are your hobbies?”
The waiter showed up with their salads, which forced Grace to set his phone down. When she turned to ask the waiter for more water, Desmond slipped the phone off the table.
She filled her fork with lettuce and lifted it to her mouth. “I saw that.”
While she chewed, Desmond talked. “What are your hobbies?”
For three courses he asked questions and she answered them . . . elaborately. She spent time at Dodgers games and occasionally camped with her family. Once she mentioned her brothers, Desmond pried. He already knew about the man screwing his wife. The other one, he’d seen going in and out of the property where Maci lived. The home with gates and cameras and signs that said “No Trespassing” and “Beware of Owner.” Why couldn’t Maci have rented a normal home on a simple street? One where he could walk in the back door and drag her back where she belonged.
“I feel like I lost you right then,” Grace said, bringing him back to the room.
Desmond put his fork down, found the smile he’d placed on his face since walking in the restaurant, and did all he could to direct it at Grace. He knew how to make her believe she was the only woman in the room. “I’m fascinated. A successful woman who’s comfortable in her own skin who watches baseball. You’re quite a catch, Grace.”
She laughed a little too loud, and Desmond had to stop himself from looking around the room to see if anyone was watching them. He hated loud women. Despised them.
“Tell the single men in this town that.”
He leaned forward and placed his hand next to hers on the table. “Their loss. My gain.”
“That’s another line, isn’t it?”
“Is it working?”
She rolled her eyes but then brought them back to his.
Yeah, it was working.
They stepped out of the restaurant, which sat right outside the city’s mall. Across the street was the only decent hotel in town.
“How about a nightcap?” he asked as he guided her steps. She had consumed three glasses of wine with dinner, assuring him the rest of his plans would fall into place.
“I have to work tomorrow.”
“Coffee, then.”
She started to look around and he felt the moment slipping.
He guided them away from the people walking on the sidewalk and stopped her by stepping in front of her. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let me do this. And if you hate it, we’ll call it a night. And if you don’t, I’ll fill you with coffee and maybe share an overpriced dessert.”
Grace tilted her head back and licked her lips.
Desmond placed his hands on her elbows and leaned over her. Kissing was one of the many tools in his arsenal. And it appeared that Grace had plenty of practice. He brought both hands to her neck and stroked his thumbs along her windpipe. So easy.
He let the kiss linger before she pulled away.
“Well? Coffee?” he quietly asked.
She smiled, and he knew he had her.
“Grace?”
Desmond stiffened, and she turned toward the male voice. He glanced over his shoulder.
Two uniformed police officers approached them.
“Hi, Miah.”
Grace stepped around Desmond and accepted a hug from the cop. She greeted the second one by name as well.
The desire to shrink away, to go unnoticed, became a physical need. Only one of the cops was looking at him with eyes that only law enforcement seemed to have. Questioning, accusing, and judging.
Desmond lifted his chin and let Grace introduce him. Anything else would have been met with a whole lot of trouble.
Somewhere in the handshakes and names that he quickly forgot, Desmond heard Grace say, “They worked with my dad before he retired.”
“Is that right?”
“A lot of us knew Grace when she was in a training bra.”
Grace slapped a hand to the cop’s chest. “Don’t listen to him, Dylan. I never wore a training bra. I went straight to a D cup.”
The older of the officers closed his eyes. “Too much information, Gracie.”
These men were entirely too familiar with her.
“Fine, fine . . . go away. You’re crashing my date.”
More kisses to cheeks.
“Nice meeting you, Dylan. Be careful with this one. She’s loved in this town.”
Grace laughed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Police harassment. Get lost.”
As they walked away, she was all smiles. “How about that coffee?”
Desmond lost his fake grin and took a step back. “I can’t.”
It took time before his words reached her ears. “What?”
“I lied to you.” It was time to turn this around. “I can’t do this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Lied about what?”
“My wife . . . she didn’t die. She’s divorcing me.”
Grace rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”<
br />
He took a step forward. “I know. I’m sorry. In my defense, everything else I said was the truth. I haven’t dated in years and have no idea—”
“Stop.” She held up a hand. “Just stop. What a douche.”
“Please don’t hate me. My wife is mentally ill and as much as I’m trying to let go, I still feel responsible for her.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you feel justified?” She shook a hand in his direction. Made giant sweeping motions. “My dad always told me not to date a guy in a suit. The shoe fits.” She turned a one-eighty and walked in the opposite direction.
“Grace?”
Her middle finger waved in the air as she strode away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Twice Erin had woken up in the night with fractured dreams, and twice Matt wrapped her in his arms and reminded her she was safe. Although she hadn’t slept the whole night through, she managed to step to the kitchen before Matt rolled out of bed. When he joined her he slipped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. His familiar greeting was something she felt herself craving when he was in the room.
“What are you making?”
“Pancakes.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “To help replenish my reserves after last night?”
“Yes and please.”
He laughed and moved away to fill a cup of coffee.
“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said.
“I am. I like that we have a plan that doesn’t require me to change my name and deplete my entire bank account on another move.”
He leaned against the counter wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and a smile. “I like a plan that keeps you close.”
She walked over, kissed him softly, and turned back to their breakfast. “We have about an hour before Renee calls. I say we enjoy the morning before the next round of chaos.”
They sat outside and watched the world wake up while they ate, slowly marking time until they were both watching the clock.
“Don’t you work tomorrow?” Erin asked.
“I switched shifts. Until we have a handle on this ex of yours—”
“You need to work.”
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